


Svara's Lament

by vesaldi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: And a dragon, Gen, do not fall into witchdrop, it's baby haurchy and baby francie!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesaldi/pseuds/vesaldi
Summary: A young Haurchefant and Francel recklessly visit Providence Point on their own with near deadly consequences.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Svara's Lament

"Father says if you are true and pure of heart, you shall live on forever to walk in Halone's halls."

Haurchefant looked down into the depths of Witchdrop. He could scarcely see the ground below — not that anything would be there. It was considered poor manners to leave the bodies at the bottom. That much he had learned from _his_ father.

"Francie, you've got to _die_ first," he explained to his friend, a stony expression on his face. "I, for one, would rather not prove my honor by breaking upon the bottom of the gorge."

"If _my_ family's honor was at stake, I would jump," Francel continued. "I would prove that we are honorable men all."

"You are barely twelve summers old, Francie," Haurchefant reminded the boy with a smirk. "Besides, none would be so bold as to accuse House Haillenarte of heresy."

Haurchefant grabbed hold of his friend's sleeve to pull him away from the precipice of the gorge. It was a mild winter in Coerthas, and the highlands had scarcely seen a flake of snow, though there had been no shortage of rain. As it was the first day in a week that the sky was finally clear, the youngest of House Fortemps had suggested the two enjoy the unseasonably warm weather outdoors. Haurchefant had suggested a trip to Camp Dragonhead, to which Francel eagerly agreed, but no sooner had they arrived than the young Haillenarte had insisted on an excursion north, toward the Steel Vigil.

"Francel, this is a terrible idea," Haurchefant warned as they continued north from Witchdrop.

The other boy glanced back over his shoulder without slowing his pace. "I thought you wished to be a knight."

"I do," Haurchefant confirmed, "but tis folly for a knight to stride unto the dragon's maw for naught but glory alone."

Francel stifled a laugh. "You have been reading far too many epics, my friend."

"T'was advice from my _father_ ," Haurchefant returned, a light blush rising in his cheeks. "And it is _good_ advice, besides."

"Perhaps," Francel agreed, "but I have heard naught but stories of the Steel Vigil since I was but a child."

"You are _still_ a child."

"Haurchefant, must you always—"

Both boys were interrupted by a piercing howl ahead of them. Haurchefant's eyes went wide as he looked past Francel to see the unmistakable silhouette of a massive dragon, larger than any he had seen before. Francel had clearly noticed it too. The quaver in his breath was clear as he took a step backward directly into his friend.

"When I tell you, run east toward the Ogre's Belly," Haurchefant whispered.

"Are you mad?" Francel barked as quietly as one could possibly bark. "You wish to trade death by a dragon’s fangs for death at the hands of ogres?"

"If we stay here, or stay out in the open, we will _certainly_ not see the sun of tomorrow," Haurchefant returned. "Go, Francel!"

With barely a moment's hesitation, the boy tore off toward the caverns to the east. The dragon's gaze turned to follow the new movement, but Haurchefant was prepared. "Over here, brute!" he bellowed, picking up a stone and hurling it at the great wyrm.

The dragon snarled angrily and began to advance. It wouldn't do to lead the beast back toward Dragonhead nor toward Francel, and it blocked the path north. Haurchefant knew his only recourse was either toward Natalan, or down into Witchdrop. Natalan was certainly not an option — the Ixal weren't like to appreciate the presence of _any_ from Ishgard — so Witchdrop it was.

Jumping was out of the question, of course, so Haurchefant scurried as fast as his legs would take him toward the rough slope of stone leading down into the gorge. The dragon roared as it bounded after him, and Haurchefant could hear the sound of the wyrm's massive claws scrape along the stone at the gorge's edge.

The rocky path leading down into Witchdrop was slicker than Haurchefant had expected, thanks to the many days of rain, and he felt his boots slide out from beneath him as he ran toward the salvation of the gorge. The dragon reached out its long neck to snap after him, but massive as it was it could not fit down the narrow pathway. As Haurchefant tumbled helplessly downward, the beast howled in frustration.

Haurchefant came to a stop as he slammed into the wall of the cliff. He groaned in pain as he got to his feet, thankful that the path turned to the right rather than the left. A fall from this height would be just as likely to kill him as if he were to have jumped from the top. Now that he was afforded some measure of safety, he carefully made his way down to the bottom.

Despite the unseasonably warm winter, the depths of Witchdrop seemed just as cold as ever. Haurchefant shivered as he surveyed his surroundings. If he remembered the stories of Witchdrop well, there would be tunnels connecting from the gorge all the way to the Ogre's Belly. And so he set off in search of his friend, praying that the stories of bloodthirsty ogres were just that.

"Haurchefant, is that you?" a relieved voice echoed down into the second gorge as Haurchefant emerged from the connecting tunnel. He looked up to see Francel standing at the edge of the precipice above the slope leading out of the chasm.

"Francie, thank Halone you are safe!" Haurchefant beamed, rushing up to the edge of the crag. He held a hand out to his friend. "Come, we must get you down and return to Dragonhead immediately."

Haurchefant helped Francel climb down the edge of the bluff and the two embraced for the briefest of moments before heading up the slope and back toward the camp. The dragon was sure not to be far, but if they were careful and quiet, they might avoid its detection long enough to return to safety.

"Did you see the size of that beast?" Francel asked quietly as they approached the safety of Dragonhead's walls. "I think it none other than Svara herself."

"You think it the great wyrm that wrested the Vigil from House Haillenarte?" Haurchefant asked in surprise. The dragon was enormous, to be sure, but Svara...? "I can but wish you to be mistaken, Francie. Should Svara have ventured so close to Dragonhead..."

"We must inform your father at once," Francel proclaimed. "And tell him of your heroic actions!"

"And how would you explain our reason for being so far from the camp?" Haurchefant asked with a frown. "If our fathers learned of our reckless behavior—"

"I shall take full responsibility," Francel offered with a smile.

"No," Haurchefant returned with a shake of his head. "We will come up with some other excuse."

"This could be your chance!" Francel urged him, grasping his sleeve. "This could be what gains you knighthood after long last!"

Haurchefant laughed as they passed through the gates into camp. "I daresay they do not take twelve year old boys as knights."

"You know what I meant."

"Fear not, my friend," Haurchefant replied with a warm smile. "If it is to be, I will have many and more chances to prove my worth."

"Would that you did not need to," Francel frowned. "But thank you, my dearest friend, for saving my life this day."

Haurchefant nodded in response before looking toward the outpost. "I will inform my father that we spied the wyrm through the mist from the ramparts above," he offered. "Surely some soul here heard the dragon's bellow."

"Are you certain?" Francel asked. "I still believe that-"

"This is for the best," Haurchefant insisted with a smile. "Go, my friend. I shall find you once I am finished."

Francel nodded somberly before heading for the safety and warmth of the barracks. Haurchefant turned back toward the intercessory, where he knew his father would be. With a deep breath, he began to walk. None would know of his deeds, but Francel would remain safe from reproach. That was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> This short story was featured in my 2019 NaNoWriMo project, [The Light of the Crystal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276551/chapters/50941969).


End file.
